


In the Cold Light of Day

by Invisiblyhappy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, No Smut, Paris - Freeform, Songwriting, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invisiblyhappy/pseuds/Invisiblyhappy
Summary: Paris. 1870. A ballet dancer is thrust into the limelight, and his teacher, the ever mysterious Phantom, seems to be pulling all the strings. The Paris Opera House will never know a love like it again.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 4





	In the Cold Light of Day

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber

It was the eve of 1870, a bitter wind flew through the Paris Opera House, Harry flew down the stairs, ballet slippers in hand, and his best friend, Niall, stood at the bottom of the swirling metal staircase, rolling his eyes. 

“Always late.”

Harry scoffed, placing his slippers messily on his feet before rubbing them in the chalk on the ground. 

“Says the man waiting for me.” 

Niall chuckles quietly before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him to the wings, they barely make their cue. 

The music swells and the boys make their entrance, flying across the stage in their blood red leotards, dripping in gold and velvet. The lead soprano steps forward, her dress sparkles in the spotlight, and her voice dances throughout the empty seats. The male lead grabs her hand from the sides, his tenor fills the stage with love and passion, Harry bursts across the stage again, he is the physical embodiment of the love between the two singers, Niall is the opposite, he is the jealousy and difficulty that all lovers face, fighting Harry through his spins and jumps. 

The lovers finally pull apart, the music darkens and the fighting stops, Harry lays still on the edge of the stage, the hatred won. Niall runs back across the stage and into the wings, flying through the air. The two singers are at the height of their number, their voices battle for dominance. The soprano wins. The love dies. 

The music ends and Harry gets to his feet, just as the owner of the Opera House comes on stage, clapping his hands, two women stand either side of him, eyeing everyone carefully. 

“Well done! That was beautiful!”

The entire cast return to stage to greet the owner, Niall comes to stand by Harry, gripping his hand tightly. The owner opens his mouth to address everyone again. 

“As many of you know, there has - for a while now - been many a rumour of my retirement, and I can now say that they were true.” 

The crowd turns to one another, gasping and talking incoherently. He clears his throat and the crowd silences. 

“But, I am happy to introduce to you, the Opera House’s new owners,” 

He gestures to the women, both are young, beautiful and petit. One is dressed in a delicate violet dress, and the other a deep burgundy. 

“Madame Cadieux and Madame Houde. Please treat them the same as you would me.” 

Before the crowd can react to these two women, the backdrop of the final scene falls on the male lead - André Joubert - crushing him underneath it. Niall whispers in Harry’s ear as everyone rushes to André’s aid. 

“He’s here! The phantom of the opera!”

Harry pulls away from his friend, looking around for any movement. 

The backdrop is finally shifted off of André, he gets to his feet, his face has turned a deep red, and Harry wonders if it’s from the anger or the embarrassment. 

Madame Houde moves towards him, a comforting smile plastered on her face. 

“Monsieur, are you all right? These things do happen.” 

André’s face turns an even deeper red, and he explodes, finally come to the end of his tether. 

“THESE THINGS DO HAPPEN?! FOR THREE YEARS THESE THINGS DID HAPPEN!! AND DID YOU,” 

He thrusts a finger into the previous owners chest,

“EVER HELP?! NO! AND UNTIL THESE THINGS STOP HAPPENING, THIS THING,”

He gestures to himself,

“WILL NOT HAPPEN.”

With that, he turns around and storms backstage, leaving everybody flabbergasted. 

The soprano follows André, but not before turning back around, scoffing, and with a roll of her eyes saying,

“Amateurs.” 

The previous owner clears his throat before looking to the two women. 

“Good luck, if you shall need me, I will be in Florence.” 

Madame Cadieux asks him a question before he can leave the Opera House - and the lives of those who live there - forever. 

“Excuse me, monsieur, why exactly is it that you are leaving?” 

“My heart.” 

His footsteps echo throughout the theatre, with the two women left stranded. The conductor now climbs on stage, eyes wide. 

“What do you plan on doing?”

The two women look to each other, then to the crowd and back to the conductor. 

“Is there no understudy?” 

The conductor scoff before crying out, 

“Understudy?! There is no understudy for André Joubert! He’s the best tenor in Europe! The opera is tomorrow night!” 

The crowd is silent. Everyone knows what this means. No tenor? No opera. 

“Harry can sing it!”

Niall’s voice rang through the silence, cutting it like a knife, and he pushed Harry closer to the madams. 

“The ballet boy? What a joke.” 

Harry backed away without a word, ready to accept defeat, until the ballet mistress spoke up in his defence. 

“He’s been taking lessons from a brilliant teacher.”

The women turned around to stare at Harry, now that a woman of importance had spoken up for him, they were intrigued. 

“Who is your teacher, boy?”

Harry refused to look at them in the eye, he is not used to this much attention being focused onto him. 

“I do not know his name, madame.” 

The two owners look back to Madame Zabelle - the ballet mistress - who sighs. 

“Give him a chance to prove himself and his talent.” 

One nods, followed by the other, and Madame Zabelle clears the stage for Harry to sing. 

The conductor looks Harry up and down, groans, and returns to his pit. 

“Very well, from the aria, monsieur.”

Harry takes a deep breath, the music starts and his heart beats to the rhythm of the strings. He opens his mouth and sings. He sings like he’s never sung before. All those lessons, all those hours with the invisible man behind the glass had added up to this one pivotal moment in his life. 

Down below, in the catacombs of Paris, walked a man, half his face burned and covered with a porcelain mask. The devil, is what some call him. Others call him the phantom. The phantom of the opera. A mysterious being, feared by all. All except Harry, who knew this phantom, in a way. They had spent one hour of everyday together for the past year, they knew each other. He looks up through the vents as Harry’s voice fills the air, every atom reacts to the sound, the very dust vibrates. 

The phantom smiles, it’s a deep and proud movement. He mutters to himself, talking to Harry through the air. 

“You’ll do well yet, my love.” 


End file.
